The Loves of the Angels: A Poem

A. and W. Galignani, 1823 - 148 páginas

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Página 89 - And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth : and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.
Página 65 - A boat at midnight sent alone To drift upon the moonless sea, A lute, whose leading chord is gone, A wounded bird, that hath but one Imperfect wing to soar upon, Are like what I am, without thee...
Página 78 - As free from any fear or doubt As is that light from chill or stain, The sun into the stars sheds out, To be by them shed back again!— That happy minglement of hearts, Where, chang'd as chymic compounds are, Each with its own existence parts, To find a new one happier far...
Página 68 - Mong these was ZARAPH once — and none E'er felt affections's holy fire, Or yearn'd towards the' Eternal One, With half such longing, deep desire. Love was to his impassion'd soul Not, as with others, a mere part Of its existence, but the whole — The very life-breath of his heart!
Página 3 - But other, earthlier joys had gone, And left their foot-prints as they went. Sighing, as through the shadowy Past, Like a tomb-searcher, Memory ran, Lifting each shroud that time had cast O'er buried hopes...
Página 23 - O'er some fair temple, which all day Hath slept in shadow, slow revealing Its several beauties, ray by ray, Till it shines out, a thing to bless, All full of light, and loveliness...
Página 1 - WAS when the world was in its prime, When the fresh stars had just begun Their race of glory, and young Time Told his first birth-days by the sun...
Página 24 - It was my doom still to be haunted By some new wonder, some sublime And matchless work, that, for the time Held all my soul, enchain'd, enchanted, And left me not a thought, a dream, A word, but on that only theme ! The wish to know — that endless thirst, Which ev'n by quenching is awak'd, And which becomes or blest or curst, As is the fount whereat 'tis slak'd...
Página 59 - A cherub moves in, on the day Of his best pomp, I now put on ; And, proud that in her eyes I shone Thus glorious, glided to her arms, Which still (though at a sight so splendid Her dazzled brow had instantly Sunk on her breast) were wide extended To clasp the form she durst not see ! Great God ! how could thy vengeance light So bitterly on one so bright? How could the hand, that gave such charms, Blast them again, in love's own arms ? Scarce had I touch'd her shrinking frame, When — oh most horrible!

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